


Face to Face

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Season/Series 05, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-06
Updated: 2004-07-06
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Justin starts a new life. Spoilers through season 4.





	Face to Face

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Brian watched as Justin, one by one, said his good-byes to the Liberty Avenue family. Lindsay and Mel kissed his cheeks, promising to write. Michael pulled a check list entitled “Things that better make it into the movie” out of his pocket. It was no surprise that item number one was: Make sure Zephyr gets laid. Ted shook his hand, while a teary-eyed Emmett made Justin promise to invite him to Hollywood the weekend of the Lana Turner film festival. Debbie smashed the breath out of him, reminding him to be careful where he stuck his dick and call home once in a while. With last wishes of luck and declarations of pride, the gang turned and left Justin to the next 6 months of his life…and saying good-bye to Brian.

Standing face to face, Brian was reminded of the first time he met Justin. Then too, they had stood before each other and the unknown. But that’s where the similarities ended. The past 3 ½ years had molded and shaped Justin and Brian into the people that now stood in the airport terminal unsure of what to say. 

Justin smiled slowly, “Do you think the others left because they figured we’d want to find a place for one last fuck?”

“Hell no, they’d all pay money to see that show,” Brian said, tongue in cheek, eyebrow raised playfully.

Behind them, the boarding of Flight 387 to Los Angeles was announced. With blurry eyes Justin turned to look at the attendant taking tickets, needing a short composure break. He figured there must be flowers/dust/small furry animals in the near vicinity.

Turning back, Justin stood on tippy-toes to wrap his arms tightly around Brian’s neck. They had both decided not to make promises of letters, phone calls, or even emails. Promises resulted in hurt feelings. Hurt feelings resulted in wall erecting and chin rats. Six months wasn’t that long after all.

“I’ll miss you, Brian” Justin whispered softly into Brian’s ear. Feeling the reaction his warm breath had on Brian’s lower regions caused him to pull back and chuckle. An answer far more telling than words.

One short kiss later, Justin turned from Brian to make his way to the boarding line. Brian watched his back get lost amongst the other passengers in line. Left to his own thoughts, Brian quietly whispered, “Bye, Sunshine,” as he watched the people one by one disappear down the boarding tunnel. He watched as Justin took step after step toward a new life. A life in Hollywood, where on the first day he walks into the studio his new co-workers will turn to look at the new kid, laughing at the look of idealism on his face. 

“He’ll never make it”

“The kid couldn’t be any older than 12, but he’s got a hot ass.”

“Where the hell is Pittsburgh anyways?”

“Fucking five days tops ‘til that kid’s back on a plane, crying to his mommy that the real world was full of big bad people.”

The snarky laughter will only incite his determination. Justin, if nothing else, is a fighter and a stubborn little twat. He’ll shock everyone when he tells the most renowned art director of the 21st century that he can go to hell if he actually thinks Rage would *ever* wear bright pink lycra. And being a victim of mind control is still not a plausible fucking excuse.

Soon enough, Justin will be surrounded by his own admirers. Small, private art commissions will turn into 10 separate lucrative offers of permanent placement. Justin will enjoy work like he enjoys cock. And when he finishes work for the day, he’ll walk out onto the streets of Los Angeles to realize that his life is now exactly that, *his* life.

For the first time Justin’s close circle of friends will be his own. They’ll love Justin for Justin and as an equal. He’ll never regret or discount his Liberty Family. He’ll just for the first time understand what its like to have peers as friends; people who understand him because they are at the same place in life, with the same sorts of problems and decisions.

And if weeks go by without hearing from Pittsburgh, then Justin will just chalk it up to a busy schedule. And if Michael asks when was the last time he talked to Brian, he’ll just nonchalantly reply, “We never made any promises.” 

When Danny moves in, Justin will tell himself he’s just helping out his friend, his *best* friend. And if one night things go further than friendly cuddling on the sofa, Justin will fight tooth and nail to forget by the next morning. But when 6 months turns into 9, Danny will look at him with those eyes that love him so deeply, so openly, and Justin will follow his heart. Danny will ask him about Brian, but Justin will know that Brian will understand. 

On the night Rage premieres in Hollywood, the whole Liberty Gang will walk down the red carpet. Michael and Justin will take center stage until Brian Kinney arrives. Because Brian fucking Kinney *is* Rage. Justin will look up and see the man he left in Pittsburgh. He’ll see Brian as he’s always seen Brian, beautifully flawed perfection. Brian will look up and see a man, not the man-child that whispered so softly in his ear some 15 months earlier. Beside Justin will stand Danny, quietly offering his support and love. He knows Brian doesn’t know about him yet. But Justin will reach down and take Danny’s hand without fear or apprehension. Yet again Brian and Justin will stand face to face. Both will smile gently. They’ll always have that connection, that forceful pull that is tangible to everyone in close proximity. And without words Brian will understand Justin’s brash honesty, honesty that a letter, a phone, or an email could not do justice.

Grabbing Mickey, Brian will hug him. Telling him “Hollywood ass kissers make his dick soft” and disappear to some WeHo club to do a little sight seeing.

Ten years later, Brian will get a letter in the mail with a check covering an old loan. Accompanying the letter will be a canvas. A canvas covered in an abstract rendering of a sunrise on a cloudy morning. Brian will think the painting more than repays any old debts. The letter will be put in the box in the closet. The box with the other memories; the newspaper clippings, birthday cards, Rage memorabilia, gallery announcements, and pieces a life he once thought he didn’t want or need. He’ll donate the check to the Vic Grassi House in honor of an old friend. And every morning he wakes up, he’ll softly run his fingers over the canvas that hangs across from his bed.

When he’s 87, Brian will be bed-ridden by cancer. He’ll know his days are numbered by the looks on his friends’ faces. Sometime around June, Brian-barely conscious of his surroundings-will have a former blonde-haired visitor. Face to face one last time, Brian will manage one last request. As he runs his fingers gently over the canvas his visitor has brought to his bedside, he’ll take his last breath and let go.


End file.
